A Morning at the Market

Guten Tag, Meinen Freuden!
The story goes that some Viennese bakers rising in the wee hours for their morning chores noticed some suspicious activity around the city walls. They reported it, and another Turkish attack on the city was foiled. In their pride the bakers decided to create a new roll that would allow them to “devour” their enemies. They made their buns in the shape of the Islamic symbol and thus the croissant was born.
I cannot vouch for the historical veracity of the tale, but the Viennese like the French have the custom of breakfasting on croissants on the weekend. Me, too. With plenty of butter and jam. I had pastry today, too, but you are going to have to wait for that.
I was feeling pretty perky this morning and ready for some tourist action, and what better thing to do on a Saturday morning than to go to a market? If you want to go along with me via Google maps, start at Stephensplatz and go along Kartnerstrasse. Keep going until you get to Kartner Ring. I took a detour to the Karlskirche, a Baroque extravaganza built as a thank you from Emperor Charles VI for the end of the Plague. There’s also a plaza and a pretty park as well as the remains of the Jugendstil (Art Nouveau) tram station.
But let us not become distracted. There’s a big market just around the corner and every shop is going to shut down on Sunday, so one must be prepared. Markets can provide hours of entertainment, and Naschmarket is one of the best I’ve been to. Every comestible imaginable is on offer. Vienna was once the capital of a highly cosmopolitan empire. What do you want? Italian? Greek? Spices? Exotic vinegars?
I went Turkish. Yes, despite the defeat mentioned above the Turks are here as welcomed residents. I stopped at a stand for some meze: hummus, green olives, dolmas. I can foresee many trips back that way as I have barely scratched the surface of what was on offer.
After dumping my purchases off, it was time for the next thing.
I walked down Singerstrasse away from Stephansplatz and toward the Stadtpark. I wended my way along the shaded paths, saying Guten Tag to the ducks and the pigeons and accompanied by music from a busker who played the same Hungarian folk song over and over. And over. I had a look at the Danube Canal--but that’s not the real river. The Donau is for another day.
My destination was the MAK, which are the German initials of the Museum of Applied Arts--design in other words and to make it even more fun the exhibits were designed by contemporary artists. The building itself is worth seeing just for itself. It’s one of those grand marble veneered, painted ceiling numbers. There’s a central atrium on the first floor where us plebs are allowed to hang out amid the Late Imperial Splendor. Most of the exhibits are of furniture, glass and ceramics. They have some beautiful Biedermeier pieces. Biedermeier is the Viennese style. The name comes from a pejorative term for middle class, i.e. stuffy, but I did not find it so. There are also some hot items from the Renaissance and Baroque periods as well. Glorious oriental rugs were displayed as well as some charming and whimsical ceramics from East Asia.
One of things I wanted to take home--although I don’t know what I’d do with it--was a modern design chair that looked like a Pointillist’s nightmare made out of confetti. Whee!
Ah yes. The pastry of the day: Apfelstrudel. Filled with apples, raisins, and cinnamon, compared with the Sachertorte--this is health food. And very tasty it was, too.
But is anyone out there? The reason I did a blog this time is so people could talk back. Please leave a comment.
Auf Wiedersehen.